


Until the Dawn

by ConnecticutJunkie



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Gen, Not shippy yet just trying to fix something forgotten
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-23
Updated: 2019-04-23
Packaged: 2020-01-25 13:18:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18575260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConnecticutJunkie/pseuds/ConnecticutJunkie
Summary: Post S08x02-spoilers for up to s08x02-An unseen reunion is given its due.





	Until the Dawn

**Author's Note:**

> I understand the show doesn't seem to want to present the same vibe as the books in regards to these two, but I also feel NOT including anything, even a passing nod, is like a giant F you. So I just wrote this, real quick, because it would've been nice to see something. Anything. And I'm sure others feel that way.
> 
> I hope you enjoy.

Until the Dawn  
\-------------------

 

Dondarrion had finally buggered off somewhere, and Sandor had been lightly sleeping against the wall of the battlements, waking occasionally and seeing how far the moon had travelled, before enjoying a bit more wine and brooding again. 

It was probably his last night. Probably his last wineskin. He probably had only a a few hours left, and he definitely had regrets. It was too late to address them now, though. 

He was one of the most fearsome warriors in the recent history of the Seven Kingdoms. But he had been afraid of a woman's potential reaction to him.

Just as he was accepting that he had only seen her from afar, once, in the last several years, and would be marching to his death with that image in his mind's eye, she appeared in front of him. Silent as a shade from her precious fucking crypts she had snuck up on him, and taken him by surprise.

Even her words were surprising. "You weren't in the strategy meeting."

He considered standing up, as protocol would dictate, but dismissed the instinct. Hadn't served anyone in years. Fuck protocol. Besides, she seemed to enjoy looking down on people. 

He assumed she would be wearing that stone cold face he had first spied on his entrance to Winterfell, but he didn't feel much like looking at her either. 

"No," was all the explanation he gave, and took another swallow of wine.

Maybe her eyes narrowed, maybe her lip curled up in distaste. Didn't matter. He'd be dead soon, and no one would be around to remember there was once an old gimp of a warrior named Clegane who was a disappointment to every female Stark.

A pause much lengthier than appropriate ensued. Nothing but wind and snow to hear, and probably just his imagination, but he swore he heard the shuffle of undead feet scraping closer.

"Don't you have a castle defence to plan?" He finally said, when he couldn't take it anymore.

She huffed. He could picture the mist from her mouth, ice crystals drifting up to surround her hair. Sparkling in the moonlight, or some other nonsense. She did that to him. Made him think of songs he had heard here and there over his lifetime.

"Yes, I do. And as a seasoned battle commander, I expected you there."

He snorted. "Didn't get an invite."

"I thought you hated liars. So why are you lying now?"

Finally, he looked at her. There was fury in her eyes, but the rest of her was as stiff as the statues in the crypts below. "No one told me about your fancy fucking meeting."

"I sent Arya to tell you." 

"She didn't. Must've been distracted by picturing herself being pounded by the blacksmith's hammer."

He continued to speak over her noise of protest. "If you had actually wanted me there, then you would have told me. Yourself. Not sent a message with your feral wolfbitch sister. So I didn't go."

He drank more wine. It was terrible and it was weak and he would die with its shortcomings on his tongue. But wine was like cunt, he took what was on offer.

Sansa was still towering over him; he was head height with her cunt. Now that would be a fine taste to die with.

"I, Sansa of House Stark, Lady of Winterfell, command you, Sandor Clegane, to attend any future war meetings, should we prevail here tonight. Does that invitation suffice, ser?"

The last word came out with a hiss, accompanied by an arch of her eyebrow. "Aye," he nodded, refusing to rise to the bait. 

More silence. The only movement was her cloak in the wind, her hands as they clenched and unclenched, and the flicker of fire in the torch that he absolutely refused to look at. Fucking Lord of Light was probably aching to give him a nice little fire show about his upcoming demise. Fuck that.

When he couldn't take it any longer, he looked back up at her. "Anything else, Lady Stark?"

She surprised him by seating herself next to him, far enough away to not touch, but close enough to pass her the wineskin. So he did.

After taking a small pull, she handed it back and spoke, staring straight ahead. It no longer bothered him, he found, when she didn't look at his face. It was preferable to the hard, icy stare she had previously given him. As if she was calculating his worth and deciding whether or not to waste any of their grain on him. Or how filling he would be for a dragon.

"Why have you avoided me since you returned?"

He chuckled bitterly. "You were the one avoiding me. Thought that's what you wanted. Tried to make it easier for you." He sipped from the skin, passed it over again. It was still half full; he had mostly been drinking for warmth, not forgetfulness. 

"Why would I avoid you?"

He shrugged, and counted off on his fingers. "I'm ugly, I'm rude, I didn't do enough to help you at King's Landing, I told your sister I should've fucked you bloody. Take your pick."

"You helped me."

"Not enough. Not when you really needed it. Couldn't get get you to leave with me."

"If I had left with you I would have been safely returned to my family and I would have died with them at the Twins."

She sipped the wine and passed it back. "Aye. Instead, you get to die with the rest of your family here, in your beautiful fucking armor. Now there's a song. Pity no one will be left to sing it."

"We will be safe here. We have plans. Plans you would have known about, had you attended the council."

"Then you shouldn't have avoided me and inatead came to me and told me to go." He sipped again. Pondered again. "Snow talked about you. How clever you are. How organized. How you can see three moves ahead. So you knew every face that came through that gate, no matter how many faces came through. You knew I was here. You didn't find me."

"Because it had always been you who found me!"

He almost felt warm inside when her stoicism cracked. There would be at least one victory for him tonight. "This isn't the Red Keep. You're safe here in your home. I don't need to keep an eye on you."

"True," she acquiesced, and he felt a small bump from her shoulder armor to to his. He looked down at the flash of silver that had entered his view. "Don"t grab me on the stairs again, though." She twiddled the sharp metal spike that hung from her chain. "You might not be safe."

He chuckled. "You won't hurt me."

She smiled back, quick and shaky. "No. I won't hurt you."

They were quiet again. He realized she could outlast him when it came to being silent. It was him who felt the need to speak.

"If I die, don't burn me. Just point me south and send me to kill my brother."

A short giggle actually came from her. "I promise." After a short pause she added, "You were right, you know. About killing being the sweetest thing there is."

"Sometimes. Not always. Not anymore. I don't think I helped you or the wolfbitch. I think I just made you as fucked as me."

She leaned her head against the stone and looked over at him. "You helped as best you could. It may have taken me a while to see that. But I see it now."

He closed his eyes and sighed. "I owe you more still."

"You do. And you will pay it tonight. When the battle starts, you will fight beside Lyanna Mormont and her men. Stay close to her. She is part of the future, the ones who will rebuild if they survive."

He nodded. "I'm going to get a reputation for hanging around little girls."

She smiled, and small as it was it reached her eyes. He felt her gloved hand press into his and squeeze. "You've already got one, but for protecting them."

"Sandor Clegane, Girlsaver. Terrible fucking nickname."

"Better than the Hound."

"I'll drink to that." And he did.

In the quiet they could hear the occasional laugh, sob, or shout punctuate the night. Finally, she squeezed his hand again. 

"Stay safe, Sandor." She let him go and stood. Gave him another imperious look. "Come back."

"Aye."

"Swear it."

He tensed his jaw, but found the words came out easy enough. "I swear."

"Until the dawn," she said, and with a nod and a quick gathering of skirts walked off the battlements and back inside the warmth of Winterfell.

"Until the dawn," he answered back, quietly, and watched a torch flicker and burn for some time until the horns blew.

\-------


End file.
